The Trophy Room
by Sorcerer's Muse
Summary: Just a bit of Harry/Ginny fluff exploring a world where they both played seeker at the professional level


Author's notes:

I know, I know, this isn't the story you've all been waiting for. But I had this sitting around from a while back and thought I'd put it to use…

To let you know I'm back and the sixth installment of my Slytherin Harry series will begin posting one week from now!

There, now don't you all feel bad for the bad thoughts you had about me when you first saw this?

Standard disclaimer.

It all belongs to JKR. Thank you for letting us play with your toys, lovely lady.

About this missive, it is unrelated in any way to my Slytherin Harry world, or, for that matter, to any world but its own. It's just a bit of H/G fluff that has them both playing seeker at the professional level. It's a bit heavy on quidditch/history on the front half but the story picks up on the back end.

And, yeah, that's about it. Enjoy.

Sorcerer's Muse

* * *

**The Trophy Room**

* * *

Harry carefully hung the most recent framed Quidditch Monthly cover on the wall of the trophy room of his and his wife's home. Considering the two of them had combined for over thirty years in the league, producing ten titles and six runners' up finishes between them, there were rather a lot of magazine and newspaper covers with one, the other, or both gracing the walls. That said nothing for the two-hundred-fifty-three scarves for the English national team and four world cup titles the two had combined on. Three walls of the room were covered with photographs, game memorabilia, medallions and various trophies. The fourth wall, Harry didn't enjoy so much, but Ginny insisted those accolades go up as well so he acquiesced and grudgingly admitted it should be remembered too. But back to the recently hung cover. It was an interesting shot, showing nothing but an empty starting circle with a lone broom lying on the ground at its center. The headline emblazoned across the top you ask?

**END OF AN ERA**

Ginny had finally retired. The most decorated Seeker in history had created a memory that was burned into Harry's mind; probably many minds to tell the truth. He was certain her actions would become a new tradition for retiring players. Just months after leading the Harpies to the seventh league title of her career she had caught the snitch in the 2022 World Cup final. England and she had been crowned World Champions for the fourth time in six tries with either her or Harry suiting up as the team's Seeker.

She had celebrated with her teammates, participated in the awards ceremony where Germany had received their runners' up and England their champions' medallions. She had hoisted the cup and her teammates had hoisted her on their shoulders, carrying her all around the stadium as they celebrated with the fans. As the circuit was completed Ginny had broken from her teammates. She'd claimed her broom and walked to the half line at the edge of the field where she had stood still for near a full minute. There had been a tension in her body as she stood there and the fans and players on the pitch slowly stilled, confused by his wife's actions. Standing in the stadium tunnel Harry had been the first to understand.

The second had been the losing Seeker from the German side. He had begun to clap. His teammates had followed as had hers. And then the fans had understood. Like her career, the announcement of her retirement would be just as extraordinary. The fans joined the players and officials on the field in voicing their support. It mattered not that, for many of them, their side had just lost the greatest prize in the sport; twenty plus years of brilliance trumped everything in regards to the woman making her way to the center of the starting circle. They pounded on the seats and stomped their feet. Unique to her alone, the only player in the English league to emblazon her jersey with her first name – there was already a Potter in the league and she hadn't wanted to start her career with a name she knew she wouldn't be keeping – the shout of GINNY, GINNY, GINNY, reverberated across the pitch over and over.

She reached the center of the starting circle and raised her broom in the air, turned in a slow circle to the entire stadium she then bowed, first to the north, then east, south and the west acknowledging those who cheered that day and all through her career before setting her broom on the ground, pressing a kiss to her hand, and then touching that kiss to the pitch. She was then standing again and making the long walk across the pitch to the stadium tunnel. Players, from both teams, and officials from the match and the IAQ created a corridor as she walked to the tunnel. Other players in attendance from teams previously eliminated from the competition jumped the railing from their section to join the rest on the pitch in honoring the greatest seeker and perhaps even the greatest player in the history of the game as she left the field for the final time. Her fellow Seekers, stepped forward as she passed with hugs of gratitude for the way in which she had played the game.

At the end of the corridor of players Harry had waited for her. He had embraced her and then kissed her, dipping her low to thunderous approval before standing her up again. He took her hand and raised it to the crowd one last time before following her up the tunnel as the history books closed on her quidditch career.

Harry stepped back and took in the wall as a whole. So many memories lived on it, but as usual the first to draw his attention had been taken way back in the beginning. Or very near it anyway. It was from the run up to the 2002 World Cup. The shot featured three different Seekers; Harry in the center, arms crossed over his chest. He was flanked on the left by Ginny and the right by Tiffany Taylor. The two women were even with his shoulders and turned so their backs were to him. They also had their arms crossed over their chests and all three wore an expression of determined confidence. The headline for the issue was a single word.

**CONUNDRUM**

Somehow England had found themselves with a plethora of worthy Seekers. Harry was in his fourth year in the league and had started for England in the 98 contesting of the Cup; earning his place on the team without ever having played a professional match. He'd led England to the finals where he'd lost to Viktor Krum. The ensuing four years had only seen improvement in his game as raw talent had been honed to near unrivaled skill. The two women were both in their third year as professionals and were the only two seekers in the English league to hold a candle to him. All three had started for England since the last World Cup had been played. All three could claim victory over the other, though at the time Harry held a slight edge over both of them in personal battles for the snitch and was the only one to have won a league title.

The question had been, which two would make England's squad for 2002 and which of those two would be the starter. In the end it had been Harry and Ginny who made the team. Harry had won the starting role. England had stormed through the group stage, winning their first two games to secure a place in the round of sixteen. The coaches had sat Harry for the third match of the group stage; giving Ginny a chance to start and gain a bit of experience playing in the World Cup. She had responded, catching the snitch after only fifty minutes of play. It had proved to be a wise decision on the part of the coaching staff to get her that experience, because while Harry had led the team safely through the elimination rounds into the final, the semi had seen him take both bludgers moments after snagging the snitch from the air. One had crushed his left collarbone; the other had broken his jaw and left him with a nasty concussion. Forced into service for the final Ginny had responded again. Ninety minutes into the match, with England up 70-50 over Argentina she had out fought the Argentine Seeker, snagged the snitch, 150 points, the win and the title of World Champions for England.

A legend had been born.

From that day on Ginny had kept a strangle hold on the title of World's Greatest Seeker. Certainly she'd lost the odd chase, and it had been her seventh year as a professional before she won her first league title. There were only so many times a team could ask their seeker to win the game for them, sooner or later a match would come along where even the 150 points Ginny earned for catching the snitch wouldn't be enough. But once the Harpies finally found the right mix of Chasers, Beaters and a top flight Keeper they had reeled of five titles in nine seasons; coming no lower than third and finishing runners up three times during the span. The Harpies had hit a bit of a dry spell over the next six years as the mix of Chasers, Beaters and Keepers just didn't gel properly, and despite Ginny's continued brilliance had failed to even make the playoffs two years straight. But these last two years, they'd got it right and then some. They'd gone 51-1 over the span and been crowned Champions both years.

As far as the English national team went, Harry and Tiffany had each started their share of matches, but everyone knew the true starter was Ginny. She'd started for the team in the 2006, 2010, 2014, 2018 and 2022 World Cups. England had been crowned champion in 2010, 2014 and this last contesting in 2022. 2006 had seen them bow out in the semis and 2018 England had lost in the finals. Ginny's personal record as a starter in the World Cup was an astounding 35-2. The only reason it wasn't 39-2 was because England had secured a place in the elimination rounds with one game left in the group stage and the coaches had opted to start her backup in the third group game. Harry had delivered one win in that situation, while Tiffany had added two while getting beaten once.

Over the years, challengers had come and gone; Harry, Tiffany, Victor Krum and a host of others had retired. Ginny had buried them all. Only Harry had ever held a winning record against his wife and by the time he hung it up, Ginny had long since left him in the dust; 23-9. Harry could only take solace in the fact that his record against his wife was better than anyone else had managed. She was just better… Better than anyone, past, present and more than likely future too. He'd been asked, once he'd retired, what it was that made Ginny stand out, what about her was the difference when he and the players she so routinely beat all flew like a dolphin swam. His answer, "She flew like a shark with the scent of blood in the water."

Simply, she was the best.

"Hem-hem."

Harry's throat went dry even before his eyes settled on who, or rather what, even after all these years he'd not really been able to define it properly in his mind, had disturbed him. As it always had when _she_ gave him that… look, his body responded. It was a cover shot of Ginny just after that first World Cup final win. _She_ was dressed in trainers, black yoga shorts and bra top. _Her_ broom was slung over _her_ shoulders with _her_ arms draped up on it. Perhaps the easiest description would be to call it a crucifix pose. Draped behind _her_ was the English flag and _her_ toned body glistened with sweat. The headline for the issue.

**QUIDDITCH QUEEN**

"You retired, you know," Harry said.

_She_ didn't answer, _she_ never had. _Her_ verbal communication had only ever been a clearing of _her_ throat to get his attention. This time wasn't any different. _She_ just gave him a look that clearly said, "Not the game I'm interested in." Harry's face flamed. This particular photograph had only ever been interested in one thing.

Him.

Ginny had told him many times it didn't bother her after she'd caught him. Point of fact, many years ago when he was still playing she had given him a copy. "For when he got lonely on the road," she had told him. And he had, many times. Once he'd retired though, he'd been able to travel with his wife to the vast majority of her matches. The need hadn't been so pressing. But once in a while, when Harry came in the trophy room alone, _she_ made _her_ desires known. Harry swallowed, it didn't seem to matter to him that Ginny didn't mind. He always felt guilty. The problem was he just couldn't seem to resist. _She, _after all_, _was his _wife_. And he was, after all, rather attracted to his wife. And _she_ knew just what look to give him and, well, one thing led to another and Harry would once again find himself confessing to his smirking wife the next time he saw her.

"Hem-hem."

Harry nearly jumped out of his skin with the voice behind him. He spun around to find his wife, the flesh and blood version, standing in the doorway. And she was giving him that... look.

"Something the matter, Harry?" Ginny asked. Harry's mouth salivated. Ginny's arms were spread to the doorframe, imitating the pose from that near twenty-year-old photograph. "It is the same outfit," she said with a knowing smirk. Harry swallowed. His wife had discovered Yoga early in her career. Three hours a day, six days a week minimum meant her body looked as good as, if not better than, the photograph she was recreating. She stepped into the room, sauntered to him and trailed a finger along his arm. Her eyes locked with his. "I'm ready."

"Ready?" he croaked.

"I'm retired now, Harry."

Harry cocked his head. "You mean?"

"Unless you've changed _your_ mind."

Harry's hands went to Ginny's bum, lifting her up. Her legs wrapped around his hips. "Not on your life," he growled.

Ginny tugged his ear lobe in her lips and whispered. "I can't wait to hear our baby call you daddy," she whispered.

"Bedroom?" Harry asked.

"Desk," she growled. "Now." Harry quickly crossed the room with her and set her down on the desk, all thoughts of World Cups, league titles and amorous photographs lost in the delicious creature in his arms.

* * *

It was a bit over a year later that Harry hung the third in a series of newly framed photographs on the wall in the expanded trophy room. He stepped back, grinning like a Cheshire cat at the image. His three-month-old daughter burbled happily in Ginny's arms as he pressed a soft kiss to the top of her crown. He'd been told eye color took a while to settle in infants, but his little Lily Molly Potter's eyes hadn't wavered one bit from the blazing emerald green she'd been born with. Coupled with his wife's flaming red hair, Harry was already rehearsing his boy intimidation tactics.

"Hem-hem."

Harry shook his head as he turned to the every randy image of his wife from so many years ago. _She_ seemed to have enjoyed the fact that his actual wife had been somewhat out of commission in regards to certain of his desires for a good bit of the last year. Decidedly pleased with herself, Ginny had given him no end of grief about it.

"You know she's no longer off limits now," Harry said to the photograph.

_She _gave him a look that clearly said, "Like I care."

"Hem-hem."

Harry turned so quickly he put a crick in his neck. "Ginny," he croaked.

She smirked. "This seems rather familiar, Harry." How his wife had gotten her body back so quickly Harry couldn't guess. But that bloody Yoga outfit advertised that she had to great effect. All he could think as she sauntered across was he was one lucky man. She took his hand and placed it on her bare stomach. "I'm ready," she said.

"Are sure?"

"I promised you a quidditch team, Harry. And I'm not getting any younger." She backed away, pulling him by the hand to the desk.

"That wasn't meant to be literal," he said as she pulled him in with her legs. "I'm perfectly happy with just one."

Ginny slid her hands under his shirt and pushed it up. "I'm not," she purred as she leaned in to kiss his stomach.

Harry groaned. "You're sure?"

Ginny pulled his head down to her cleavage. "Harry."

"Yes?" he asked as her hands undid his jeans and started pushing them down.

"Shut up and knock me up already." Harry grabbed her and turned her around. "Oh yes," she growled, bracing her hands on the desk as his pushed her shorts to the floor. "Take me, baby."

* * *

Ten years later Harry hung yet another framed photograph on the wall of the trophy room; his oldest, Lily Molly Potter, as she headed off for her first year at Hogwarts. The walls were veritably covered with pictures of his girls now. There was eleven-year-old Lily, followed just less than two years later by the twins, nine-year-olds Hermione Grace and Fleur Ginevra. Three years after the twins came the now six-year-old triplets, Stephanie Renee, Samantha Amber and Svetlana Adrianna.

Six girls who gave him worse nightmares than Voldemort ever had. Ginny had already sat him down once to talk about the impending arrival of Lily's, as yet unknown, first boyfriend. Harry gave a small shudder at the thought. The most closely guarded secret of his life was the somewhat unrealistic hope that all his daughters would swing the other way. At least it removed the possibility of unexpectedly becoming a grandfather before an appropriate age had been reached. That he was already fifty-three and three years older than Bill was when his eldest daughter had made him a grandfather was beside the point.

"Hem-hem."

Harry froze. Was it lecherous for a fifty-three year old man to lust after a photo of his wife taken when she was twenty? He schooled his face to an impassive mask and turned to the photo. "Aren't I getting just a bit old for you?"

"I should hope not."

Harry turned to find his wife in the doorway. "Do you keep that outfit just so you can prove to yourself you can still fit in it?" he asked.

Ginny slipped into the room. "I keep it because it turns you on when I wear it."

Harry smirked. "You could turn me on wearing a parka fit to explore the arctic."

She laughed and slipped into his arms. "You know what amazes me?"

"What?"

"That you haven't figured out that _she _and I are only randy at the same time."

Harry frowned. "How exactly would you have figured that out?"

Ginny blushed. "Because every time I've come home and you've confessed that _she _managed to seduce you again I happened to have been missing you rather fiercely." She stretched up and kissed her way along his jaw line. "If you catch my meaning," she whispered in his ear.

Harry pushed her back. "You mean to tell me every time _she-"_

"I misbehave, _she_ misbehaves, Harry."

Harry stared at her for a long moment before exclaiming, "Bloody..."

Ginny pulled his head down, kissing him hard. "You do realize all the girls are at mum and dad's and we have the house to ourselves till lunchtime tomorrow, don't you?" she asked when they broke apart.

Harry quirked an eye. He was aware, but sometimes it was more fun to play along. "Yes, but I'm pretty sure my wife is still around here somewhere."

Ginny pulled him down again. "Sod her," she growled just before their lips met. She pulled him back towards the desk. Harry placed a hand on her stomach, but she pushed it away before he could cast the spell. "Not this time," she said when he pulled back to look at her.

"You're joking," he said.

She bit her lip. "One more?"

Harry stared at her with disbelieving eyes. "You're serious?"

"One more."

"What if we get a girl?"

"I don't care what it is. I want another." Harry just stared at her. "Please?"

"You do realize our track record suggests we'll get three more than the bargained one."

Ginny shrugged. "Not like we can't afford it."

Harry shuddered. "Eleven possible son-in-laws, are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

Ginny giggled. "I'm trying to get my husband to shag me. But if he's unwilling I'm sure I could find a willing boy toy around her somewhere."

Harry leaned down and trailed his lips behind her ear. "But would he even know what to do?" he breathed in her ear.

"No," she gasped. She reached for his face, pulling him so their eyes locked. "Only you."

"Witch," Harry said huskily and pressed his lips to hers. In one smooth motion his hands slid up her sides, under the elastic of her top and lifted it over her head. He tossed it to the floor where his shirt soon followed. Half an hour later he was spooned behind her under a blanket on the couch.

"You know," Ginny observed, "for some reason it's just dawning on me that there are rather a lot of photographs in this room, the vast majority of them being of our daughters and that we have likely just scared them all for life."

Harry chuckled. "One would think they'd have refused to engage with us years ago."

"Please tell me you thought of this long before I did."

Harry pressed a kiss to the back of her head. "I cast a privacy ward that activates the moment a certain photograph asks for attention before someone even gave me a copy of that photograph," he mumbled into her hair. "The _children_ didn't see or hear a thing."

Ginny rolled to face him. "I knew there was a reason I loved you," she said before kissing him deeply.

"Again?" he asked when she pulled away

"Again."

"Top or bottom?"

She pushed him to his back, moving to straddle him. "Both, I'm sure."

Harry's hands moved to her hips. "You know I'm not exactly twenty anymore, don't you?"

Ginny leaned down to press her lips to his. "As we've the whole night and all of tomorrow morning, I think you'll manage." Harry raised his hips lifting her whole body up. "At the least," she groaned.

He reached up and pulled her down by the back of her neck. "At the least," he growled before their lips met.

* * *

Twenty-two years later Harry hung yet another photograph on the wall. Over the years it had become so crowded he'd been forced to take down various mementos to make room. Many of the covers from his and Ginny's quidditch days had made their way to boxes now stashed in the attic. _She, _of course, remained. Though it had been some time since _she'd _done more than just smile fondly at him. Occasionally he and Ginny managed to create a bit of friction. If you catch my meaning, but generally they were far more inclined to take advantage of the sunbeam that graced the parlour couch for a long afternoon cuddle than they were more amorous activities. No, it was far more likely one of his seven daughters – yes, there had been one more to join the Potter clan all those years ago – would be indulging in activities that might see a new Potter grandchild force yet another cover or trophy from its place. Harry's secret hope his girls would bat for the other team had died an inglorious death. As with all the Potter children, Luna Leah Potter had been conceived in this very room and just like her older sisters, she was, very straight. She'd had her first boyfriend at the ripe age of seven. Even Ginny had struggled with that.

And it was this last Potter girl that was responsible for the tears slipping down Harry's cheeks now. His baby, his last child, had married and while he was overjoyed for her, he was also gutted. As of one week ago today, he and Ginny were officially done raising their children. It was almost unfair, even cruel, the way it snuck up on him, he thought. One minute he'd been wiping away her tears after a broom crash and it seemed the very next she'd been wiping his as he participated in his last father/daughter dance.

Hermione had coined a phrase a few years back. "The days go slow, but the years race by." Harry only wished he could go back and somehow impress upon his twenty-year-old self the truth of those words. It wasn't that he minded getting old, or older, really. What he did mind was realizing what was gone. Oh, he and Ginny had an even dozen grandchildren already, but never again would it be _his _daughter he rocked to sleep or sat up through the night with or whose first time to Hogwarts he witnessed and it hurt. It hurt far more than his fool twenty-year-old self could ever have fathomed. Now, Harry wasn't feeling sorry for himself, not really. There was a lot left to look forward to but as you hit middle age and realized you likely had fewer years left than you'd already lived, well, then the years really did seam to race by; going faster and faster till suddenly your baby was married.

A pair of arms slipped around his middle. "Feeling a bit melancholy?" Ginny asked.

"Feeling like I wish there were more yet," Harry answered.

"Yeah," she sighed. "Me too." She rested her head on his back and the two just stood there for a time. Eventually though, she turning him around. Looking up into his eyes with a bit of a smirk she said, "Though I think we about wore the desk out trying."

Harry grinned down at her. "And the couch, and the floor."

"Could have done without the rug burn on my bum," she giggled. Harry laughed with her, pulling her tight with his chin on her head. Ginny let out a sigh and melted into him and he just held her.

"Think that desk has anything left?" she asked softly. Harry pushed her back, eyeing her dubiously. "Right," she agreed, "the bed is probably a much more comfortable option."

"Well it's certainly softer on my head if I end up passed out from lack of oxygen to the brain," Harry answered.

Ginny backed away from him, tugging his hand as she went. "You can have the bottom," she teased. "Nowhere at all to fall if that happens."

Harry followed her. "It's so nice to have someone looking out for my health."

"Well if I don't, I'll have to replace you and, frankly, after fifty-six years of training you, I'm not thrilled with the idea of having to do it again."

Harry chuckled. "Remind me again, why do I like you?"

Ginny stopped and he ran into her. She pressed her lips to his in a hard kiss. "Because I'm the mother of your, children," she said when she broke from him.

Harry scooped her up in his arms. "That you are," he agreed, making his way to their bedroom.

**End**

* * *

Author's notes:

As I said, just a bit of fluff to hold you over till next week.

Sorcerer's Muse


End file.
